Page 37 of Tangled in Red

Afternoon sunlight warmed Macey’s porch. Above Diablo, branches swayed, casting dappled shadows across the yard. His arms were propped behind him on the wooden steps, his legs stretched out. Heat from the wood seeped through his jeans, warming his legs as the weathered wood creaked beneath him.

Beside him, Tomas rested his elbows on his knees, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “So we roll up to this house thinking we’re about to find a hyena setup,” he said.

“Find any?” They’d come by to check on Macey, but she was taking a nap. Since Diablo hadn’t felt like going back to the tavern, he’d just chilled on the steps.

“Not a single one. Just this human squatting there.” Tomas shook his head. “Guy freaked out, starts swinging and kicking. I had to grab him from behind because those small hands fuckin’ hurt.”

“Santiago and Matias were there?” Diablo asked, glancing at his phone screen again, which remained stubbornly dark. Still no response from Brett. Two texts sent hours ago and nothing back. Not like his elegido to go silent, especially during his shift. Usually Brett fired back messages within minutes, even if just to say he was busy.

“Yeah, and Boone too. The bear alpha,” Tomas said. “Man, you should’ve seen this human. Slippery little shit.”

“Slippery how?” Diablo chuckled at the mental image of a small human taking on Tomas.

“Like trying to hold on to a baby seal.” Tomas scratched his stubbled jaw. “Then the guy somehow grabs my gun.” He leaned back. “I’m still holding him from behind, but now he’s got my piece, hands shaking so bad I was worried he’d accidentally shoot someone.”

Diablo’s eyebrow shot up. “He disarmed you?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tomas scowled. “For a skinny dude, he was quick a hell.”

Diablo’s lips quirked up. “Matias must’ve been thrilled.”

“Oh yeah, super pleased.” Tomas shook his head, watching as a neighbor mowed their lawn. “I was worried he’d accidentally shoot someone. Other three pull their guns, got the human in their sights.”

“Shit.” Diablo should’ve been there, should’ve had his alpha’s back. He was the pack’s enforcer, along with Santiago. But he’d been busy with Brett. He checked his phone again. Still nothing.

“Yeah, exactly. Shit.” Tomas laughed, then grew more serious. “Guy was just scared, man. Had four shifters cornering him.”

“How’d you get the gun from him?” he asked, his mind circling back to Brett. He’d never missed anyone this much. It had taken everything in him to let his mate out of bed this morning, and he’d been that close to asking the redhead to call off from work.

“Promised my protection,” Tomas replied in a somber tone.

That got Diablo’s full attention. “Bro, you know what that means.”

“Yep.” Tomas glanced away. “Was just trying to stop the guy from getting killed. The promise just kinda slipped out. Name’s Noel. He’s chillin’ in one of the tavern bedrooms.” He frowned. “That’s the third time you’ve checked your phone in five minutes. Something up?”

“Brett’s not answering.” Diablo pocketed his phone, jaw tightening.

“He’s working, right?” Tomas stretched his legs out in front of him. “Probably just busy.”

“Yeah.” Diablo straightened, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension building there. “Got a weird feeling in my gut, though.”

Tomas studied him for a moment then tapped Diablo’s leg with his knuckles. “So let’s go check on him. Hospital’s ten minutes away.”

Diablo was crossing the yard before Tomas finished the suggestion. Minutes later, they roared down the streets. Wind whipped past his face, doing nothing to cool the burning unease spreading through his chest. Every stoplight felt like an eternity, each turn taking too long. His knuckles whitened around the handlebars, muscles tensing with each mile.

By the time they pulled into the hospital parking lot, dread had settled heavily inside of him. Tomas followed close behind as they pushed through the main entrance, boots echoing against polished floors as they headed toward the gift shop.

Inside, a middle-aged woman with ash-blonde hair stood behind the counter. No sign of his redhead. Diablo’s stomach dropped.

“Can I help you?” she asked, glancing up as they approached.

“Looking for Brett,” Diablo said, scanning the small space. His mate could be on break. There was no need to panic. “He here?”

The woman’s face shifted from professional to concerned. “Are you friends of his?”

“I’m his—” Diablo caught himself before he said he was Brett’s mate. “I’m his partner.

“I’m Kelly, his manager.” She extended her hand, which Diablo shook automatically.

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